


Gifset Ficlets

by Menzosarres



Series: Swan Queen Week: Summer 2014 [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Prompt: Amnesia, Prompt: Caregiving, Prompt: Creator's Choice (Matchmaker), Prompt: Fake Relationship, Prompt: Truth Serum, Swan Queen Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 21:45:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1794235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Menzosarres/pseuds/Menzosarres
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These five shorts are entirely separate snippets from five separate lives our favorite ladies might have lived. Since none really constitutes its own fic, I've combined them here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Looking to Impress

**Author's Note:**

> These drabbles, shorts, and one-or-two-shots were all written for Swan Queen Week on tumblr. These are for Days 2, 3, 5, 6, and 8.

 

“I promise, I don’t usually frequent strip clubs of  _any_ sort and I’m not really propositioning you… nothing sexual. It’s just… I’m being childish and I want to make an ex-boyfriend jealous. How much will it cost me to get your help?”

Part of Emma couldn’t believe she was going through with this, standing out in the rain propositioning a stripper. Is wasn’t even that she wanted Hook back, to be honest. After all, she had been impossibly relieved when he called things off, annoyed at what he deemed her “unnatural obsession” with trying to make things better between with Regina after the Robin fiasco. Seeing him move on so quickly, however, was irritating to say the least. She knew she was being paranoid, but she swore half the town was looking at her with pity now that it had been four months and Emma was still alone while Hook had slept his way through more women than Emma could begin to put fairytale names to. She was tired of feeling Hook’s eyes on her everywhere she went, as though taunting her that she had blown her last chance at a real relationship. And so she was here, in a strip joint thirty miles from Storybrooke, literally buying herself a date to give the town something to talk about  _other_  than her singleness and perceived misery. She was tired of compromising her integrity and dating people she didn’t care about, but she was also tired of her growing reputation as a relationship leper. Somehow, her mind had convinced her that this was the closest she would find to a middle ground.

“Darling… Did it ever occur to you to visit a  _male_  strip club? There’s one just around the corner… we’re a pretty progressive town, after all. Thing is, it’s kind of hard to make a guy jealous by taking a pretty lady to lunch… he’ll probably just want us both.”

Emma blinked. Somehow, the idea of asking a male stripper hadn’t even occurred to her.

At the look of confusion on Emma’s face, the scantily-clad woman across from her had more to say. “I saw you watching me dance in there.” She grinned wickedly. “I don’t often get women in here with that look in their eyes. You were staring at me like I was the sexiest thing you’ve seen in your life.”

Emma was shaking her head, her cheeks flushed an embarrassed crimson, but the stripper wasn’t done.

“You sure you know who you’re looking to impress, darling?”

Even as she opened her mouth to stammer out a defense, she found herself considering this woman in a completely new light. Brown curls framed a pair of dark, expressive eyes, and that hair was cut just short enough to stop above a pair of full, dangerous lips. Though the scrap of red fabric attempting to keep her decent was unlike anything another woman Emma knew would wear, and though there was a softness to her, an innocence in her face and skin still glowing with youth… the woman Emma had chosen from the ten, maybe twelve acts she had watched that night was a dead ringer for Regina Mills.

“Oh, fuck.”

Seeing the painful light of realization dawn in Emma’s eyes, the stripper took her hand. “We learn something knew about ourselves every day, sweetheart. Now, is there someone else out there you’d still like to make jealous? If it’s a pretty lady, I’ll help out for free.”

“You know what?” Emma mused, feeling as though a rug had been pulled out from under her feet but somehow not minding all that much. “There might just be.” 


	2. The Daily Moose

"Check it out; we’re in the paper!"

At Emma’s direction, Regina peered over her shoulder and scanned the news clipping in her fiancé’s hands.

“I still can’t believe you did that,” she muttered as she finished reading the brief chronicle of Emma’s most publicized bout of stupidity.

Emma set the paper down and turned for a proper good-morning kiss. “I’ll admit it wasn’t my best moment.”

Regina shook her head. Saying it wasn’t Emma’s best moment was more than an understatement. After showing up at the mayor’s office impossibly drunk and confessing her feelings for Regina, Emma had tried rather admirably to remove her own clothing, luckily too uncoordinated to get around to even attempting to undress the mayor. It had been up to Regina to coax the staggering, half-dressed woman back to her house and into a bed – alone – before she completely passed out. Waking up the next morning, Emma had been so embarrassed by her own actions and what she perceived as a rejection on Regina’s part that she had dug around in the cabinet where she knew Regina kept a few spare potions and downed an entire bottle of enough memory cleanser to turn five full grown men into blank slates. It definitely didn’t help the hangover.

Neither of them could quite figure out how she had made it from there to Canada, but when Regina found her and offered first the antidote, then a kiss, Emma was equal parts relieved, exhilarated, and chagrined. Regina liked to think she took advantage of a perfect moment of weakness to convince the ridiculous woman to marry her, and if the only consequences of Emma’s magical amnesia were the occasional stories in that Canadian rag -  _The Daily Moose -_ Emma had insisted they subscribe to, well… Regina could live with that.

“You know how I hate publicity, darling,” she murmured, pulling Emma closer and stealing another kiss. “However are you going to make it up to me?”

Emma grinned, slipping her hands into the back pockets of Regina’s slacks. “I have a few ideas.”


	3. Fascinating

   

After Regina had surprised herself by inviting the birthmother of her son in for cider – or  _something stronger,_ as fate would have it – it had been only the first surprise of the night. Emma Swan was… unexpected at best. Uncultured, crass, but raw in a fascinating way, like a shiny new toy of the sort that so rarely wandered through her time-bound town. It was almost… disappointing to send her out the door.

Still, Regina was less than pleased to find her lurking about the next day. If you could call being locked in a jail cell “lurking,” that is. Her later success finding Henry was both useful and irritating, because it seemed to give her a sense of being much more necessary than she was. Regina didn’t need a disturbance in her life, and Henry certainly didn’t need another mother.

Still, when she saw Emma take a meandering path around the side of her house and – with a distinctly guilty scan around the area – pluck an apple off of her tree, Regina had about ten seconds to realize that, as annoying as Ms. Swan’s presence was, she didn’t want her to die, and unlike the rest of Storybrooke’s residents, that apple could kill her.

_I never should have taken up gardening_ , Regina thought as she watched Emma take a bite and crumple to the ground.

—-

It was almost funny that Regina’s use for her infamous charmed apples was now only to deter deer. While the magic of the curse lingered on in the heart of each and every apple on that tree, anyone who had been in this town more than a few days became immune, as every part of their lives was scripted by the same magic that made her apples dangerous. The curse lived inside of each and every person who set foot here, and the curse wouldn’t kill its own. What little magic remained in this world was, unfortunately, a bit like a virus. Without any change in strain and type, people developed a natural immunity. It had been idiotic of her not to realize how pointless it was to try and bring the apples with her to this world as a weapon, but they had proved rather useful in killing garden pests, so she had kept the cursed tree as deer repellent and… as a memento.

Until now, when the one person still vulnerable to that particular sort of danger had the sheer idiocy to go for a snack on her lawn.

—-

It was far too close. Trying to cure magical poison in a human hospital had been a study in more patience than Regina realized she was capable of, but the treatment sequence for an unknown toxin had kept her alive for just long enough to let the curse lay its claim on her as well. Now she was back in Regina’s home, the very place she had tried so desperately to chase her away from, sleeping off the lingering effects of Regina’s ill will.

“She’s going to be okay, right mom?” Henry asked from his place at her side. “And you’ll let her stay until she gets better, right?”

“Of course.”

It was the only answer she could give. Seeing Regina rush to get his birthmother to the hospital and stay with her throughout her treatment, Henry had begun to warm to her again, as it wasn’t exactly an “Evil Queen” sort of reaction, and she had a feeling kicking Emma Swan out on the curb as soon as she could walk wouldn’t help Regina keep his loyalty. Besides… maybe her first impression had been right. Emma Swan was something new, something strangely fascinating underneath that deplorable red leather jacket, and if it was too late to chase her from town… maybe it would serve her better to claim her as an ally.

As the eyes of the woman in the bed cracked open, Regina was ready with a glass of water and a word of warning about toxic pesticides, and as Emma Swan offered her a warm smile and her most sincere gratitude for taking care of her, well… Regina thought she might find more than a reluctant ally in this woman after all. 


	4. Just Tea

    

             

Truth potions were child’s play, even in a land without magic. A few basic ingredients for relaxation and a simple compulsion charm fed by her own power could have anyone without the proper defenses spilling their deepest, darkest secrets in a heartbeat. And Emma certainly didn’t have the proper defenses. Not against magic, and not against Regina. 

Still, Regina had to  _know._ She couldn’t live like this, handing Henry over into Emma’s care whenever he asked and watching desperately as they disappeared for an hour, a day, a week. 

Sometimes she saw it, that hint of something hiding behind Emma’s eyes that said she wouldn’t run away if Regina brought it up, asked her to come in for cider or liquor or an evening or a night. But Regina needed to  _know_. She wasn’t about to make a fool of herself, to admit that the worry in her eyes as they walked down her driveway was for more than just Henry, and that, given a chance, maybe the love could be, too. No, she couldn’t start something without answers, without guarantees. 

And so, the truth serum. It would be an easy enough pretense;  _we need to talk about Henry, come in for tea?_ She could play nice for long enough to let it take effect and then, oh yes,  _then_  she could put words to the things she hoped for. She could be the strong one, if Emma confessed first. She could be the one to look shocked, to make Emma cringe for a moment of fear before finally giving her just what she’d wanted, to offer understanding and acceptance and open arms. Yes, Emma first. 

Stirring in the last ingredient - powdered chamomile to replace the dragonfern from the enchanted forest - Regina carefully stirred the final potion. A quick waft… ah,  _eau de b_ _rutal honesty_. 

She heard the now familiar sound of that hideous yellow bug pulling up in the street outside her house. They were a few minutes early, but it didn’t worry her. It would take only a moment to stir this into the tea she’d already made. 

Still, something made her pause, pulling aside the curtains and watching Emma give Henry a quick hug as he got out of the car. Her hand was trembling as she clutched the vial. She told herself she needed to move, to hurry, to slip this into the tea. It had only a day-long shelf life and she had only so much conviction.  _  
_

Still, she watched as Henry tugged his schoolbag from the back seat, but she had eyes only for Emma. Emma. The other mother of their child, the daughter of the two people in this world she hated the most and the savior who destroyed her life’s work… She could imagine only too well an expression of betrayal on Emma’s face, the spark of hope lingering on even as her face fell with the realization that something had gone terribly wrong, that Regina had abused her trust.  _She’ll never know_ , Regina told herself, but it felt like an empty promise. Every glimpse of Emma’s face as she walked closer and closer to the house… in her mind, every one became blurred with an expression of confusion and pain and damn her, damn Emma Swan for making Regina so weak. 

She couldn’t do it. She was so, so close to finally finding the answers she needed but if she started it like this, if she couldn’t trust the hope and the care and the desire she had already seen so many times in Emma’s eyes, then she didn’t deserve it. 

Disgusted with herself - both for considering it in the first place and for knowing now she wouldn’t see it through - she flung the vial across the room, watching her certainty shatter against the far wall. 

The doorbell rang. 

Opening it -  _pardon the mess, I dropped a glass -_ she stared at a woman whose eyes spoke of a different kind of certainty, and she invited her in for tea. 

Just tea.


	5. Screw Subtlety

It wasn’t even subtle, which, of course, only made it that much more adorable. “Accidentally” telling them both to pick him up from school that day, constantly forgetting something at mom’s or mom’s house, and now this, insisting he couldn’t pick who to spend Christmas and New Years with so… of course Emma would have to stay with him at Regina’s.

They joked about it in private, their little matchmaker son. If they hadn’t already been seeing each other for almost six months now, things could have gotten very awkward very quickly with that determined little munchkin running around and bringing them together at every opportunity. As it was, it was merely a debate over how – and how soon – to tell him the truth.

Regina wanted to take it seriously and subtly; have an intervention-style sit down at the dinner table and let him know that his meddling, while amusing, was unnecessary.

Emma wanted to get some fun out of it.

“Come on, let him think it was his doing! I literally saw him trying to be sneaky with mistletoe in his backpack when I dropped him off yesterday. It would be perfect!”

“I am  _not_  going to traumatize our son by letting him catch us kissing, mistletoe or not.”

“You can wear the Santa suit,” Emma taunted, nuzzling into Regina’s neck from behind and humming  _I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus_ under her breath.

Regina chose the most effective method to stop the infernal humming and claimed Emma’s lips with her own. By the time they parted, one of Emma’s hands had worked its way up underneath Regina’s shirt and the other had taken up rather possessive residence on her ass. Dragging all ten straying fingers away from her, Regina insisted, “And  _that_  is why we are not going to get caught under the mistletoe. You are entirely incapable of keeping those hands to yourself.”

Emma pouted, but in the end, neither of them got their wish. Henry found the ring in Emma’s bedside drawer… along with the much-edited attempt at writing out the words she planned to propose with.

Whether or not Henry ever realized it wasn’t his doing didn’t much seem to matter. Regina’s  _"yes"_ was far more important. 


End file.
